


Fragments

by twobirds



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Barba is jaded but she loves him because how can you not?, Eventual Smut, F/M, There might be a naughty librarian, and a sexy and brooding ADA, and they might fall in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:33:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7818115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirds/pseuds/twobirds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life for Director of Exhibitions at the New York Public Library, Lindsey Kinder, is equal parts crazy and lonely. Her family is thousands of miles away, her apartment is "anti-cute pets", and the closest thing she has to a best friend is an overly-friendly neighbor who invites herself over for mimosas on Sundays. When she accepts a ticket to a charity event from her boss, she never expects to be seated next to a dark gust of wind that makes her forget her own name. Lindsey's fascination for the mystery man isn't dampened by his standoffish attitude. There's just something about him... </p>
<p>The last thing Rafael Barba has time for is a romantic relationship. Especially not one with her. The clumsy bombshell stayed on his mind long after the event, and her business card was burning a hole in his billfold. She deserved more than a few stolen moments and rushed exchanges - he knew this within moments of meeting her - but Rafael couldn't stop himself from dialing up her number. He really couldn't stop himself from meeting her for lunch. And God, he really couldn't stop himself from kissing her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have like two other unfinished fics right now and I'm nearly done with my next actual book release (if you're interested in reading any of my published works, send me a message and I'll give you my pen name and a link to my amazon site!), and I don't know how often this will be updated. I only work on fics when I'm experiencing writers block with my novels or when I'm binge watching TV. I was going to try to work on my Carisi story before starting this, but Barba is my angel so this happened and yeah... enjoy.

There were only so many polite handshakes and flattery soaked introductions a girl could take before she ran to the nearest restroom and cried. Lindsey Kinder wasn’t a seasoned veteran when it came to charity events, so despite the pit in her stomach and the knowledge that she was a total fraud hanging over her head, the schmoozing got real old real fast. Admittedly, the first few times she stepped out in an evening dress that she spent way too much money on, she felt like a million bucks. Rubbing elbows with some of the biggest wallets in New York City wasn’t something she ever dreamed she’d be doing, especially not as a _librarian._

When Anthony Marx, the president and CEO of the New York Public Library, hands you a ten thousand dollar ticket to a charity event to congratulate you on your promotion… you take it. Granted, his well wishes were about eight months late and he only gave her two days to find a dress and a date. The dress part? Easy. Lindsey’s promotion came with a raise; her salary wasn’t quite at three figures, but she was close enough to rush to Saks a pick up a sleek new off-the shoulder piece in a beautiful royal blue.

The whole, “bring a plus one” thing, though? A little more difficult. If Lindsey thought dating in Indiana was difficult, dating in New York City was damn near impossible. She hadn’t been in a serious relationship since grad school, but North Carolina had far better dating options. In her very humble and very limited opinion, that is. Finding a suitable guy in the city was more tedious than learning the colon classification system. It was just about as useful, too.

Lindsey didn’t mind going stag to the event. Okay, she minded a little bit. On the grand scale of things, arriving to a charity ball solo landed somewhere between snagging her heel on the uneven pavement outside the library while a slew of tourists looked and watching a sex scene with her sixty year old mother. Slightly embarrassing. A little awkward. But tolerable.

It wasn’t as if she was going to see ninety percent of the people in the room ever again. Maybe in papers or on TV, but not in a social setting. Actually, she thought as she searched for her assigned table, there was a very slim chance that anyone knew who she was or cared that she took a taxi to Sheraton by herself. The whole arriving via taxi might’ve been a little low brow. Then again, nobody there knew she stepped out of a twenty year old cab with cigarette burns peppering the gross backseat. With a private smile that probably looked more like a grimace, Lindsey reminded herself that nobody cared. Literally nobody cared.

She was riding the fence on how she was going to let the rest of her night play out. On one hand, she could say hi to the people she did know. That number was few and far between. Anthony Marx, to her knowledge, handed out a few of the tickets to some of the directors at the library. She was friendly enough with most of the people she worked with at the Manhattan branch, and she remembered a few faces from when she worked at Tompkins Square. Lindsey could pull the old “in and out” trick; she’d make the rounds, say hi, and jet before she was late for her ten o’clock date with Netflix.

On the other hand, she could live it the hell up. When else was she ever going to get the chance to eat a dinner that cost more than her monthly rent? Let alone in a pretty dress in a pretty ballroom surrounded by pretty people? Lindsey wasn’t a shy person; she could have fun and talk – maybe even _schmooze_ with the likes of them. Networking was everything, especially in New York City.

She made up her mind to enjoy her night – why the hell not? She was just over thirty with a barely there social life and a busy work schedule that was only getting busier. It was a Saturday night, dammit, and she wanted to have fun – when she arrived at her table and saw four friendly faces. _Four._ There went her plan to pretend to be a hip cupcake mogul from the West coast looking to relocate. Damn. She already thought up of cute little names for her nonexistent yappy purse dogs. Sprinkles and Buttercream.

Lindsey’s seat was nestled between one of her coworkers and an empty chair. Regina, the Director of Children’s Literature, turned to look at her. Her husband, a handsome silver fox whose name she couldn’t quite remember, peeked over and offered her a welcoming smile.

“Way to look like a fucking movie star,” Regina muttered, popping her red stained lips.

“Look who’s talking.”

Regina was nearly fifty – something she griped about every other time Lindsey talked to her – but still looked fantastic. Like, “boobs still where God intended” fantastic. She either had great genetics or a really great bra collection. Her blonde hair was natural and shiny, free of the silver that her husband rocked, and she had big bright blue eyes that looked just like the diamond earrings she wore every day. The earrings looked great with her elegant black evening gown.

“I told you, dear, you look amazing.” Her husband looked at her like she hung the moon before kissing her rosy cheek. “You never listen to me.”

“You’re obligated to tell me I’m pretty.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t stop me from constantly telling you, does it?”

Lindsey rolled her eyes, smiling while she teased, “You two make me sick.”

Sick was one word for it. Regina and her husband were a successful and beautiful couple living the American Dream. They’d been together since college, to Lindsey’s understanding, and were so terribly in love still that it made her heart ache.

It wasn’t like Lindsey came from a broken family; she was W.A.S.P status to a tee. Her parents were still together, living in the same modest house she grew up in back in Indiana. Both of her brothers were married, happily, to spouses they met in college or shortly thereafter. They had adorable children and great careers and houses with grass and white picket fences. Actually, only Brian had a white picket fence. Greg’s HOA didn’t like fences. Yup, her entire family was nice and boring. Not that it was a bad thing. She grew up surrounded by love and it made her a better person.

But being an unmarried thirty three year old woman living alone in the big ol’ city was a little… unorthodox to her family. Her brothers were both settled with children by the time they were her age, and they both lived within an hour from home. Not to mention the fact that Lindsey was the only daughter and the youngest child. Her mom threw a wild cry fest when she decided to attend grad school in North Carolina. When she relocated to New York City a few years later? Yup, Lindsey was _still_ hearing about that decision.

“It was really great of Mr. Marx to give us these tickets,” Regina said, turning back to Lindsey. “Or Mrs. Marx, I guess. He only ever gives out tickets if she’s on the board for the charity.”

“It’s like a pity fuck, only with expensive dinners and boring speeches.”

“Anthony!” Regina scolded, finally providing Lindsey with his name.

He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the truth. I mean, our donation looks like petty change next to everyone else’s. It’s _less_ than the cost of the ticket.”

“Wait, are we supposed to donate money?” Lindsey tilted her head so only Regina could hear her hushed whisper.

Oh, God. She didn’t donate a cent. She didn’t have _that_ kind of money hanging around.

“No, but I’d feel bad if we didn’t.” Regina’s big blue eyes widened. “Not that you should feel bad. I mean, this is your first, right? It’s not like you knew –”

It wasn’t her first time, but whatever. Nobody ever told her the free ticket equated to a hefty donation she couldn’t really budget into her monthly expense report. And like Anthony so kindly put it, what she could afford to donate probably was nothing compared to some of the other donations.

“It’s fine. Hey, do you know who the big speaker is? They were keeping it tight lipped, right?”

“Uh, I think he’s a doctor from John Hopkins or something on leave to help with the research.” Everyone seemed to know exactly what was going on at the Cerebral Palsy benefit while knowing absolutely nothing at all. It was probably some skill she hadn’t yet acquired. “Not like they hand out programs at events like these, you know.”

Apparently being condescending was another one of those skills.

And it was also another reason that Lindsey could only take Regina in small doses.

“Right.” Lindsey looked to her left at the empty seat. The vacant seat would probably be better conversation the rest of the night. When she tilted her head back to Regina, the woman was still giving her a big Stepford smile. “I’m just excited for the filet mignon.”

This somehow earned a disapproving brow wrinkle. “Red meat is so bad for you. You should go for the lobster option.”

“I’m allergic to shellfish.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm. When I graduated from Perdue, my family took me to this snazzy restaurant to celebrate. Anyway, some shrimp got mixed in with my lamb and I broke out in hives and started swelling up. It was the worst feeling.” Lindsey shivered at the memory. “I ended up in the ER.”

“That’s terrible! Fiona has a latex allergy; it’s such a hassle.”

What a great way to talk about your adolescent child. Fiona probably didn’t think her allergy was as annoying as her mother did. Lindsey heard nothing over the next excruciating seven minutes except about an incident with the school nurse at Fiona’s elementary school. By some saving grace, she managed to get a flute of champagne from a server who definitely didn’t get the “crazy eyes means save me, you underage angel” memo.

“Oh, look!” Regina patted her arm and wiggled in her seat, her hushed tone adding to the murmurs that made the room sound like a summer night back home. “Mrs. Marx is about to take the stage.”

Lindsey meant to look at the woman on the receiving end of applause. She really did. But the chair next to hers, formerly occupied by her imaginary friend Larry, scooted out. She was a little more than eager to see who her new neighbor was, especially when Regina was tittering on about Mrs. Marx’s outfit. It was a wonderful dress, yes. The orange color was bold and bright but it looked great on her body, like everything else she wore. A girl could only take so much fawning over another woman without feeling a little creeped out.

She hadn’t had time to sneak a peek at the inscribed name tag when she took her seat. A brief prayer danced across her mind as she turned her head, and then she promptly forgot how to say her own name… let alone a prayer.

Her new table mate wasn’t the most attractive man she’d ever seen, but he was the most breathtaking. It was impossible to describe. In fact, Lindsey was sure she didn’t want to ever know how to put words to how she first felt when she looked at him. He was captivating. Power surrounded him, his aura nothing short of in control and confident. Looking totally dapper and one hundred percent man in his daring dark blue suit with a sunflower yellow tie. He wasn’t good looking in the conventional sense; he had a broad forehead, deep set eyes, and no-nonsense lips that opened and closed with an exhausted sigh as he scooted his chair in. His hair was swept into the perfect part, the rich brown paring well with the light bronze of his skin.

He was adjusting his jacket when he looked up and met her gaze. His eyes were nearly black, and the intensity of his stare made her chest tighten. Lindsey let out a long breath, her lips curling into a smile.

He didn’t smile back.

Another round of applause started back up and she turned her head back to the stage as an expensive three suit took the stage. She was vaguely aware of Regina whispering yelling about the mayor. Lindsey had been a resident of New York City for a solid four years, and she couldn’t honestly remember what Mayor de Blaise looked like. He could be the guy on stage, yeah, or he _could_ be a Martian in a human suit. Either or. She was a bad citizen of the Big Apple, that much was evident.

“Are you paying attention to me, Lindsey?”

“Hmm?”

“I said, they’re going to serve the hors d’oeuvres soon. I wonder if we should tell them about your shellfish allergy.”

“Right, yeah. The hors d’oeuvres.”

“Lindsey!”

Suddenly, Lindsey regretted opting into participating in the big shabam. She could’ve just said hello and mingled before she was forced to sit at a table with the wonderful Regina with her prefect boobs and her hot husband who was totally in love with her while she tried to figure out if the man on stage was, in fact, the mayor and not a spaceman.

Way to put that Masters of Library Science to use, Lindsey Marie. Her parents would be so proud.

The lights brightened a little more, apparently having been dimmed for Mrs. Fox and the Martian Mayor’s brief introductory speeches. Regina seemed to be gearing up to talk to her, and Anthony was engaged in conversation with his neighbor. The table was round and not nearly large enough that she couldn’t seek an escape via the person across from her. It was a total stranger, but she could make conversation with literally anyone but Regina. Her coworkers ten minutes were up, and she was going to need a few more drinks before she could deal with her more.

Speaking of alcohol; she was going to need more. She didn’t remember seeing an open bar, but she was running late and barely managed to slip into the building without being unfashionably late. That’s what she got for taking a taxi downtown at seven pm on a Saturday.

“Regina, is there a bar here?”

“What?” She looked up from her phone. “Bar? Um, yeah, near the front entrance. Ooh! Are you getting a drink? I could go for a whiskey and coke.”

That was one thing Lindsey liked about Regina; despite being stereotypically upper middle class, she hated any alcohol that wasn’t of the bourbon variety. They, along with a few of the other directors, went out for drinks her first week after the promotion and Lindsey got schooled in the art of mixed drinks. Her preferred vodka and soda was accepted, though highly frowned upon.

“As long as you lead the way, partner,” Lindsey muttered.

“Of course. I saw Elisa de Verve on our way in. You know, the illustrator whose coming on to help with the Developing Minds program we’re starting in the spring? She’s dating Ulrich Minor. He’s a patron at the library. I know he’s been dying to talk to someone about doing an exhibit on Egyptian pottery. That’s his specialty at Columbia, you know.”

She didn’t know. And that person Ulrich Minor wanted to talk to? That would be her. As the not-so-newly minted Director of Exhibitions at the Manhattan branch of the New York Public Library, she was in charge of not only planning exhibits with library collections but with working with public leaders and the community. Ulrich fell into that category, and his Egyptian pottery idea was definitely supported by enough material in the library. But having the material didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to do it.

Eight months ago when she stepped onto the job, she had two months to wrap up plans on an art exhibit featuring contemporary adaptations of _Alice in Wonderland_. Being thrown into the job was exhilarating and terrifying. She spoke to vendors, coordinated merchants, and had an entire staff under her fingertips. The exhibit had a few road bumps, but she got a pat on the back at the end of the day. The “Alice” showcase was running for another month, along with a local artist exhibit, and a piece on the lost art of letter writing that the former director thought was a great idea (and it was, just not for ten long months). Lindsey’s first full-blown exhibit, of her own creation, was a nod to street performers in the city. It included video, cinematography, a panel discussion, a showcase room, and an interactive performance. Yeah, she was going all out.

Regina was kissing Anthony goodbye – the chaste peck bordering something mildly inappropriate and totally scandalous for the public eye – and Lindsey busied herself by tidying the space in front of her. I.E: she adjusted her name plate and fiddled with the floral arrangement. When she heard her coworkers chair scrape, she nearly jumped to her feet to follow her to the nearest bar.

Her excitement was a little overzealous. Lindsey’s elbow clashed with her new table mate’s. She jolted, wincing with the unmistakable pain of hitting your funny bone. The prickling gave way to concern and slight embarrassment when she realized she wasn’t the only person nearly maimed. The brooding stranger was cupping his arm, eyebrows bunched in a way that didn’t quite let her know if he was angry.

“I’m so, so, so sorry,” she rushed, instinctually covering his cradled elbow with her own hand.

Like feeling his hand beneath hers could heal even the sharpest pain, the throbbing in her arm seemed to fade away. He was warm, and she was so close she could smell the expensive musk of his cologne mixed with the manly scent of a long day in the office.  

He jerked, eyes shooting to hers. Lindsey pulled away, feeling even more embarrassed. She took a sharp breath and apologized. Again.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” His voice was crisp and authoritative, two traits that were seemingly contradicting but worked so well with him.

“Lindsey, hurry up. We’ve got to go if you want to talk to Ulrich about –”

She snapped her head to the side so fast that her chignon nearly came loose. “I’m coming, dammit! Give me one second.”

She grabbed her clutch and stood in a hurry. This time, she was careful not to shove her elbow into any unsuspecting victims. Something compelled her to turn around after a few steps, and when she did, she found those obsidian eyes of the nameless man staring at her.


	2. Chapter 2

Rafael Barba was tired, but what else was new? Having a Saturday off was never guaranteed in his line of work, but he had been enjoying a semi-relaxing morning with a Stephen King book and a nice soy latte from the coffee shop next to his brownstone. He should’ve known the second he slipped into his favorite pair of lounge pants and flopped down into his recliner his phone would ring. It trilled a sound programed for those calls he had to answer, and just like that… his nice weekend off was suddenly a weekend on.

There was also the matter of the Ennman Cerebral Palsy Charity Gala. Rafael planned on skipping. He bought the ticket. That was a donation enough, right? But when the Bureau Chief mentions in passing that she hopes to see you at the event, there is no such thing as skipping. He decided on showing up and making sure she saw him and then bouncing, but his briefing ran late and he barely made it time to listen to Mayor de Blaise speak.

It was all fine and dandy. He could always get up and go find Chief McDonald and her husband, exchange pleasantries, and then retire to his book. That was the plan until he sat down next to one of the most breathtaking women he’d ever encountered… and over forty-two years, he’d been around a lot of women. All types of women. But this one? She was driving him crazy without even trying.

She smiled at him. It wasn’t a sexy, come hither, look. Nor was is an act of coyness. It was a genuine smile that made his heart hurt, and it made him uncomfortable. She looked away and his breath came out in a single swoosh.

Her friend – and he used that term loosely because she looked totally annoyed with the woman to her other side – called her Lindsey. Lindsey. It fit her. She wore this deep blue off-the-shoulder piece that highlighted her collarbones and the delicious swell of her breasts. He was a dog for looking, but how could he not? She was a vision with hair the color of dark chocolate – his favorite kind – pulled into an elegant twist at the bottom of her neck. Her eyes, ones he saw clearly under the dim ballroom lights, were the color of honey and shaped into perfect almonds. Her nose was thin and straight with the slightest upward turn, and her lips were set in the perfect pout. When she smiled, it took over her entire face. It was stunning. She had this timeless beauty that equated with agelessness, but if he had to guess he’d say she was in her late twenties or early thirties. Entirely too young for him, but he wasn’t exactly in the market for a date. Not even one as stunning as Lindsey.

After that, Rafael found it impossible to pay attention to anything but her. She smelled like a rose garden. The scent usually tickled his nose and sent him into a sneezing fit, but he was seconds away from sniffing her like a hound dog.

And then she turned and elbowed him. The initial pain was sharp and jarring, but the pain of her apologetic eyes on his cut even deeper. Rafael was torn between laughing and yelling at her. Maybe kissing her senseless. Yeah, that sounded about right.

“I’m so, so, so sorry,” She rushed. Her hand reached out and covered his.

How the hell did a breathless apology and a gentle touch make his cock half-hard in his pants? Jesus, he was pathetic. Old, tired, and pathetic.

He met her eyes, hoping his desire wasn’t blatantly on display, and she pulled away. With a quick breath she apologized again, “Sorry.”

If she said that word one more time, he was going to go crazy, and not in a good way.

“Don’t worry about it.”

The corners of her lips were starting to turn down into a frown when her neighbor started yapping about something or other. Lindsey turned quickly, a few strands of her hair coming loose. “I’m coming, dammit! Give me one second.”

Moving quickly, she grabbed the thin black bag from the table and stood up, following her friend as they hurried across the ballroom. Rafael shamelessly watched her. Her body swayed with just enough flair to make any sane man salivate. The dress hugged her in all the right spots; it pulled tight over her ass and curved against the shapely curve of her body. Fuck him, she was something else.

Like she could feel him undressing her with his eyes, Lindsey looked over her shoulder and met his eyes. The contact lasted only a few seconds, and then she was gone.

Work would be a good distraction. Rafael usually spent his time away from the office trying to forget about work. Easier said than done when the office consists of a city building where he worked tirelessly to put away criminals. That wasn’t work you could necessarily leave at the office door on your way out. Most days, he didn’t mind the workload. The pressure on his shoulders. He was strong enough to take it. He wouldn’t have accepted the job if he didn’t think he could handle it. Other days? God, other days broke him. Other days he wondered why he thought he could ever make a difference.

His work was never done, so he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and started scrolling through his emails. Somehow, a dozen had piled up since he sat down. _Do these people ever take a break?_ No. The answer was no, and he’d never been more grateful for a distraction.

“She’s a piece, right?”

Rafael wouldn’t have looked up if he hadn’t felt waiting eyes digging into his skin. Two seats down was a guy a little older than him in a boring suit with his arm draped over the back of a chair. It was the chair of his (wait a second, _his?_ ) bombshell’s friend. In fact, Rafael could’ve sworn the guy had been kissing the blonde when he walked up to the table.

“Excuse me?”

He pointed to the chair that Lindsey vacated. “Chick next to you. Hot, right?” He whistled. “If I wasn’t married…”

“You’d what?” Rafael prompted, his irritation spiking thirteen different levels. He had zero tolerance for guys like the man next to him.

“You know.”

“I don’t know. Exactly what is it you’d do to her?”

“Jesus, man. You know. I don’t need to say it out loud. She’s hot and has a banging body.”

“Maybe you should tell your wife what you’d do to her friend when she gets back. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to find out that you’re a piece of shit.” Done with the conversation he didn’t ask for, he looked back down at his phone.

“Piece of shit?” The man huffed out a laugh. “Right. Like you weren’t thinking the same exact thing. At least I’m discreet when I check her out.”

“Maybe, but I’m not married.” He didn’t even glance up. He was deep into an email regarding an ongoing case, and he really didn’t want to deal with the guy.

Apparently taking the hint that Rafael wasn’t interested in his lewd conversation, the stranger turned away and started talking with someone else at the table. Thank God. Most people got the hint that he was uninterested a lot sooner.

He smelled roses before he saw her. Determined to ignore her the rest of the night because it was the smart thing to do, he busied himself on his phone and tried to blame the tight feeling in his stomach on hunger.

“Hey.”

Goddammit. He had more control than to look up, right? No. He totally did not.

Her chair was pointed towards him. She was smiling again. This time, it was a little unsure. Did she think he was going to snap at her? Her eyes fluttered down for a second before meeting his again. “I brought you a drink to say sorry for jabbing you with my elbow. My mom always said I’m weirdly boney.” She picked up an amber glass in front of her and put it in his personal space. “I know next to nothing about scotch, but my friend said this is the good stuff. I’m Lindsey, by the way.”

Now he had to pretend he didn’t know her name, like he hadn’t been avoiding thinking about her since she first looked at him.

He picked up the glass and brought it just under his nose. “Usually I advise people not to accept drinks from strangers.”

Shit. It _was_ the good stuff. He took a sip, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head, and somehow her smile grew.

“I’m hardly a stranger. I elbowed you, right? That takes us into awkward table mate territory.” She dangled her crystal glass in front of her. “Is it good? I’m a vodka girl. I can’t handle dark liquor.”

“It’s very good.” He put the glass on the table and extended a hand. He wasn’t going to last through the night, so why even try to ignore her? Despite what everyone seemed to think, he wasn’t a prickly son of a bitch. “Rafael. Thank you for the drink, Lindsey.”

Her skin was soft, and when he grasped her fingers she shivered. It was barely there, but he saw it. “Rafael.” There it was. His name on her lips? A wet-dream in the works. “It looks like we’re going to be stuck together for the rest of the night.”

“Looks that way.”

“Do you come to these things often?” She blushed and chuckled at herself. “That sounded like a terrible pick-up line. I’m sorry.” She looked to her side and leaned in, offering him a soft whisper meant for his ears only. “If I have to talk to _Regina_ any more, I’m going to go crazy. Seeing her at work is more than enough.”

“You two are coworkers?” He asked as she leaned away. He probably shouldn’t have missed the warmth that surrounded her, but he did.

“Mmhm. At the New York Public Library.” A proud smile tilted her chin up. “I’m the Director of Exhibitions at the Manhattan Branch.”

Rafael knew next to nothing about Lindsey, but he could see her there. It seemed fitting. She was light and airy but serious and determined. Young, too, to hold such a high position. He wasn’t exactly sure what a Director of Exhibitions did, but he could piece it together. A librarian. There went a dozen fantasies that fueled him in law school.

“How did you end up here?” He felt like an ass the second he said it. Adjusting his coat, he nodded. “I mean –”

“No, it’s fine. My boss gave me a ticket. His wife is on the board. To be honest, I didn’t really want to come tonight. I know it’s for a good cause and all, but this isn’t my scene.”

He laughed. He was doing that a lot around her. “How many of us are here because of our bosses?”

“A guy like you only comes to places like this because his boss says so? I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it. I’m a state prosecutor. Weekends off aren’t really a thing in my book.”

“Oh. Wow. How did a little ol’ state prosecutor end up here?” She teased him, throwing his words back at him.

“Assistant District Attorney.”

Her eyes widened a little and her lips formed a perfect little ‘O’. “My mistake, Counselor.”

Fucking hell. She was going to send him into an early grave. Usually the ‘counselor’ thing was more annoying than funny. With Lindsey, it was a turn on. Literally everything she did was a turn on, come to think about it.

Rafael swirled the liquor in his cup. Out of the corner of my eyes he saw rolling carts and serves. Maybe he’d get lucky and Lindsey would be one of those people who chewed with their mouths open or something. _Yeah right, and nobody will ever lie in court_. “So tell me about your job. What exactly does a Director of Exhibitions do?”

She filled him in, telling him about organizing the different showcases and galleries. Rafael wasn’t completely clueless when it came to the structure of library systems, but he was pretty damn close. He knew that there was a complex line of personnel. He was completely clueless when it came to the complex string of jobs. There were executives, directors, presidents – the list went on.

The wait-staff came by as she was telling him about starting out as an Adult Librarian at Thompkins Square. “It was a lot different than working in Durham, that’s for sure. The NYPL is really focused on engaging the community and social media promotions.”

“Durham? Are you a Duke alum?”

Lindsey shook her head. “I went to University of North Carolina for my Masters. I just worked as an Evening Service Librarian at the Lilly for a few years after graduation.” She turned to the server. “These were cooked separately, right? I have a shellfish allergy.”

“We keep them completely separated all night, ma’am.”

“Great to hear.”

Rafael thanked the server and drained the last of his scotch. When their extra company moved to the next part of the table. “Are you from North Carolina, then?”

She snorted. “No. Not even close. Michiana.”

“Excuse me?”

“Michiana. It’s what the area of Indiana near the Michigan border is called. I’m from Goshen, officially.”

“Ah, a Midwestern girl. I should’ve known.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She chopped at her plate and glanced over at him.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Mmhm. And you’re what, from Brooklyn? Born and raised?”

“Close. East Harlem. I actually worked in Brooklyn before I transferred to Manhattan.”

For all the times he was right about something, he sure as hell wished he was wrong. Lindsey ate in the most unintentionally erotic way. He looked away, wishing he had more booze. Wishing he had a woman he could call up for the night, no strings attached. Wishing he had some way to ignore his attraction.

A quiet lull fell over them, conversation jilting, as they ate. At one point, Lindsey’s head turned and she started chatting with the neighbor she admittedly didn’t want to talk to. Maybe he’d get lucky and they’d just stop talking, nothing left to discuss. He’d eat, get up and find Chief McDonald, and leave. Then, he wouldn’t have to sit through the thrilling speeches planned for the rest of the evening.

He polished off his plate at a speed that would have his mother slapping the back of his head. Expensive meal that he didn’t even taste? Check that one off the bucket list. Next to get out of the ballroom, he needed to find Chief McDonald. Rafael scanned the massive space. He was coming up empty handed.

Yet again, he found himself on the receiving end of a soft palm on his arm. The heat of her hand melted through his jacket. Lindsey didn’t move when he acknowledged her. It was a good thing, too, because he didn’t want her to.

“Why do people voluntarily come to these things? I’m bored out of my mind, and I’m terrified that I’m going to break the seams of this dress because of that meal.”

“It’s a gratuitous flashing of money and social status.”

She finally drew her hand back, lips turning down. “Yup.”

Rafael was suddenly terrified that she’d disappear before he had a chance to put a name to what he was feeling. She’d go and take the weird warm aura that surrounded her and he’d be… cold again. Cold and lonely and he didn’t want that.

“When I got to Harvard, I was on full scholarship. Here I was, this punk from Spanish Harlem surrounded by all these big wallets and big brains. There’s diversity at Harvard… plenty of kids on scholarship, just like I was. That didn’t stop me from feeling out of place. There I was, working at a café near campus so I could buy clothes, while I was rubbing elbows with Daddy Warbuck’s son. Most days, I still feel like that. I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling like that.”

Why the hell did he tell her that? Jesus, he didn’t even like to tell himself that. How could he be the professional everyone wanted him to be – everyone expected him to be – when he felt like he was playing pretend? Fake it til’ you make it. That’s what his aubuela told him when he left for school.

He wanted to feel embarrassed, but how could he when Lindsey soft eyes looked at him with understanding… he didn’t feel pity. He didn’t want pity, especially not from her. He wasn’t even sure he wanted understanding. He was willing to take whatever scraps she’d throw at him.

“I feel like I’m playing pretend every day.”

And that was it. He wasn’t sure what else to say, and she was captivated by someone across the table calling her name. His pocket buzzed with an oncoming message, and by the time he had a free moment to talk to her their plates were being cleared and someone was taking the stage to talk about the charity. Then to introduce a speaker. And then someone else, to thank everyone. And thank them again. Rafael was used to being stalemated, locked in drawn out conversations with no clear end in sight.

They didn’t talk the rest of the night. Not until she stood up and tapped his shoulder. She held out a business card. “In case you’re ever in the mood to talk about the wonderful thing the library can offer you.”

He accepted the card knowing full-well that if he ever called her, it wouldn’t be to talk about signing up for a library card.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is super short, but I've been working on it for like two weeks and I'm getting nowhere. It's almost all exposition and fluff, but a little goes a long way!

“Lindsey! We were just talking about you; come here for a moment.”

Just the words she didn’t want to hear. She thought about ignoring the way too chipper for Monday afternoon voice, but her body instinctually stopped and turned to the open door of one of the many staff rooms. Regina, along with one of the children’s librarians, were standing at a Keurig. She thought about turning around and running to her office, but Regina wiggled her fingers in a sweeping motion and there was no turning her back on that. If she didn’t go talk to them, they’d track her down to her office.

She and Regina saw one another five times a week, max. It was too early in the week to start the counter, especially when Lindsey had a sneaking suspicion their conversation was going to be anything but professional.

“I really need to get back to my office,” Lindsey tried as she walked up to them. She held up her bag of take-out from a neighboring deli. “There was a line and I only have a few minutes left on my break, and I have a shit-storm waiting for me –”

“I was telling Yvonne about that hottie you were with all night at the gala. You _have_ to tell us all about him!”

“I wasn’t with anyone all night, except you.”

“Well I’m flattered,” Regina tittered, putting her hand over her chest. “But I’m talking about that dark haired man you were making eyes with.”

“There’s not much to talk about. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“There has to be something! You were all gaga over him.” She turned to Yvonne and sighed dreamily. “It was so romantic, honestly.”

Romantic wasn’t the right word for it. Rafael regarded her with indifference most of the night. They had a few moments, sure. She didn’t expect to take him home with her or anything. Not that she didn’t dream about what it would be like to have him in her bed that night when she was alone in the dark. By Sunday night, Lindsey was completely sure that any ‘moment’ she had with Rafael was fabricated.

“I don’t know about all that. Nothing happened.”

“I’m so mad I didn’t get to go,” Yvonne whined. She crossed her arms. “It’s not fair. I want to play dress up and get hit on. I need a Sugar Daddy; my student loans aren’t paying themselves.”

“The NYPL fundraiser ball is coming up in a few months,” Regina supplied.

“The patrons of the library probably have nice geeky kinks, too.”

“Not nice,” Yvonne pouted, crossing her arms.

“You know what else isn’t nice? One of my sponsors _and a damn performer_ for the _Views from the Street_ exhibit pulled out over the weekend.”

And she had an email from Mr. Marx’s secretary pushing an earlier release date because donations were dropping and he wanted new publicity. With the tension between classes in the city, an exhibit about the art of street performance would really marry the masses. At least that’s what the email said. Lindsey didn’t want her exhibit – one that was inspired by the thing that awed her the most when she first came to the city – to be used as political fodder and propaganda, but Mr. Marx seemed pleased with her work and that’s all she could ask for.

“Are you in contact with the ‘Reaction’ dance troupe?” Yvonne asked. She reached for another Keurig pod and popped it into the machine. “They do the pop up gigs in the subway. I caught one of their acts a few weeks ago and it was insane.”

“I’ve never even heard of them. Do they have a social media presence?”

Yvonne shrugged. “Probably. Who doesn’t these days?”

Lindsey pulled her phone out and pulled open her notes, adding ‘Reaction’ to a list of possible performers. She’d have to look them up later. _After_ she ate because she was pretty sure she was minutes away from dying.

“Thanks for the tip. I’ll catch you two later, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Back in her office with a mountain of wayward sauerkraut and thousand island dripping down her blouse, Lindsey surfed the web pulling up YouTube video after YouTube video of ‘Reaction’. She didn’t know how they slipped under her radar, but she was amazed with the dance group. Her fascination with the group, her messy lunch, and the looming deadlines didn’t keep her from staring at her phone every so often, wondering if the Counselor of her dreams would call.

 

 

Rafael was too busy Monday to think about the alcohol he was going to need when he finally got to go home, let alone the sexy librarian that haunted his dreams. It was nearly eleven when he finally got back to his brownstone, and eight hours later he was back at the office. The case files on his desk were starting to look like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. By lunch, his head hurt and his eyes were being propped open by wooden sticks like he was in a Saturday morning cartoon.

After eating lunch on the run while stopping by 16th Precinct to check in on the progress of a case, Rafael found himself staring at the crisp business card that was quickly burning a hole in his billfold. It still had that _new card_ smell; it matched her fresh attitude. All the better reason to leave her alone, but there he was, punching her work number in his phone.

_I should hang up._

“Lindsey Kinder, speaking. How may I help you?”

“Lindsey, hello. It’s Rafael Barba – from the charity event this past weekend.”

“Rafael.” There was a smile in her voice that lifted his own lips. She still sounded like honey on the phone. “Decide to get a library card?”

“Ha, ha. I’ll have you know that I’m a proud card carrying member of the New York Public Library.”

“Good to know. I now have an all access pass to your personal information.” She hummed on the other end. “Oh, look at that. You have forty two dollars and thirteen cents in fees. Naughty, naughty.”

“Bull. I have a perfect track record. I’ve never returned a book late in my life.”

“Matheson, Ketchum, Koontz. You have a thing for horror.”

“This probably violates some privacy law.”

“You should know, Counselor.”

“I should, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably. I’m not the lawyer.”

“Listen, I didn’t call to talk about my reading preferences, believe it or not.”

Lindsey laughed. He imagined her siting at a desk in an office filled with bookshelves overlooking Manhattan. Maybe she was standing near her windows, staring out at the city while she talked to him. Or maybe she sat with her legs propped up on her solid oak behemoth, one that was a lot cleaner and more organized than his.

“You don’t say? So, then, why _are_ you calling?”

“I’d like to take you to dinner Friday.”

“Would you, now?”

“Absolutely.”

“I know women are supposed to play hard to get and be coy when they’re asked on dates, but I’ll let you know right now I am _absolutely_ free Friday and I’d _absolutely_ love to go to dinner with you.”

“I appreciate the honesty,” Rafael chuckled. His fingers thrummed a steady beat on his desk. Talking to her made him feel like a little boy again, nervously twisting a phone cord around his fingers while he dialed up his pretty study partner.

“That is, as long as you pay your late fee.”

“Oh, come on!”

She made a clicking noise that echoed in his ear. “I don’t date bad boys, Rafael.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” He was getting hard thinking about her, prim and proper in her pencil skirts with glasses perched high up on her nose. She didn’t even wear glasses – not that he knew of at least - but it aided his fantasy, and God was it a good fantasy. “And I assure you I don’t have any outstanding library fines.”

Lindsey clucked her tongue against the top of her mouth. “If you say so.” There was a pause followed by a heavy sigh. “Hold on a second.”

“Absolutely.”

At this point, Rafael would’ve done nearly anything to hear her voice for a few more minutes. God, he was absolutely crazy. He needed to march himself to the nearest precinct and turn himself in or else he’d wind up tracking her halfway across the city so he could play Peeping Tom.

She came back on the line and made a little grunting noise. “Sorry. Apparently I have a meeting in twenty minutes that I knew absolutely nothing about.”

“Don’t you love how that works out?”

“Uh-huh,” She grumbled. “Here, let me give you my cell number. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t live in the circulation room.”

“You don’t say? Here I thought all public servants had sleeping bags under their desks.”

“Must just be you.”

Rafael snorted. He drag a hand along his face and tried to mask the grim note to his words. “That’s so close to the damn truth it isn’t even funny, Lindsey.”

“Well.” Her voice was softer and it made his heart ache. He was wistful, needing something he couldn’t quite understand. “I appreciate what you do for the city.” And then, as if she realized that was too heavy for not even their first date, she cleared her throat. “You’re like a more spiffy Daredevil.”

“That’s the only difference between me and Daredevil? Really?”

Lindsey giggled and another one of the rusty staples around his heart creaked. “Yup. The only one.”

As much as he wanted to stay tied up on the phone, she had a meeting to get to and he had… so much paperwork he felt nauseous looking at it. When she recited her phone number, he jotted it down on a memo pad and stuck it directly in his wallet so he wouldn’t lose it. The numbers were already burning a hole in the pocket of his trousers. Before he said something completely uncharacteristic, he hung up the phone after the stiffest goodbye known to man.

Determined not to count down the minutes until Friday evening, Rafael snatched a manila folder from the corner of his desk.

And instead, he counted the hours.


End file.
